Iron River

Hood considered Fi

“Why would you shudder?”

“In anticipation of vengeance.”

“Gustavo was his son.”

“Amazing how little we know of the Zetas.”

“What do you know of them?”

“Only what I read. Paramilitary. Magnificently armed. Lavishly cruel. Heads over here, bodies over there. I wonder what they dream about. I’d sure keep a weather eye for myself and my task force brethren, too. Benjamin’s honor will demand vengeance for his son. Blowdown. I like the name.”

Hood listened to Fi

“Do you know how tiring it is to hold a hardcover book in one hand, up high enough to read because you can’t raise or lower your head? Then move the book back and forth to read the lines because you can’t move your head back and forth? Then set it down and struggle just to turn a page, then lift it back up? I do not recommend it, deputy.”

“What are you doing down here in the desert if Owens went missing in Los Angeles?”

“She called me five nights ago. She was sobbing. She said she was sorry for putting me through this. I only demanded one thing-an address. It’s just inside the Secret Wars of the CIA volume on top there. Get it.”

Hood moved around the bed to the cart and lifted the cover of the book. The address was written on a Hamburger Hamlet bar napkin: 181 Skylar Road, El Centro.

“And you were on your way there from L.A. when the tire on your pickup truck blew?”

“Exactly. Go to that address. Tell her what happened to me. Tell her she is loved beyond her wildest dreams. Beyond them. Don’t try to get her to come here. She will not do anything unless she wants to. She’s always had a mind one hundred percent her own.”

Hood took the napkin and slid it into his coat pocket. “Why do you care what the Zetas dream about?”

“In dreams, men are uncontested. They’re free. A man alone with his soul is pure man. Oh, very revealing what he dreams. Human nature on display. Did you dream last night?”

“Not that I remember.”

Fi

“Who calls it that?”

Fi

Hood wondered if this was Fi

“How did you get my name and address?” he asked.

“I told you. Coleman Draper.”

“When? How did you know him?”

“Last winter. He worked on my car.”

Hood had investigated Draper, a reserve sheriff’s deputy, for Internal Affairs, and discovered that the man had done some remarkably terrible things using his reservist’s uniform, gun, and shield. Draper had owned a thriving German auto repair shop in Venice Beach.

“He told me of his association with the sheriffs. I told him that my daughter had disappeared. This was the first time Owens had done this, and I had reason to believe she was in Antelope Valley. He gave me your name as a contact at the LASD substation in Lancaster. He spoke highly of you.”

“But Draper died sixteen months ago. He couldn’t have given you my new address.”

“No. I cajoled it out of a friend at the USPS. I have my contacts, deputy, just like you have yours.”

“What do you do for a living, Fi

“Bathroom products, wholesale. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”

“Which manufacturer?”

“Most of them. I’m a broker.”

“What’s the name of your company?”

“Just Mike Fi

“Do you know Armenta?”

“We’ve never met.”

“That’s not your business, what happens with Blowdown.”

“No. My business is Mike Fi

“And that’s how you earned the ninety grand in the toolbox in your truck?”

“That’s how.”

Hood said nothing for a long moment. He saw a momentary blackness within the gauze before the reappearance of the twin glimmers.

“Much can happen in a blink, can’t it, deputy?”

“So, Owens vanishes with regularity?”

“This is the second time.”

Hood looked at motionless Fi

“Dr. Petty,” said Fi

“You have too many broken bones to be flirting with me. Good morning, deputy.”

“Doctor.” Hood watched Beth Petty scan the bedside chart.

“I’ve managed to offend you again, Dr. Petty,” said Fi

“No offense taken, Mike. I enjoy flattery, even if it’s from a bandaged-up little man whose face I can’t see. Okay, as of one hour ago, you’ve got the resting pulse of a Golden Gloves boxer and the blood pressure of a healthy twenty-year-old. How do you do it?”

“Now who’s flattering?”

Petty looked from the chart to Hood. She was almost his height and her dirty-blond hair was clipped back and her eyes were brown. “Deputy, I’ll be two minutes here. Can you wait for me in the hallway outside the unit?”

“I’ll wait.”

Fi

In the cafeteria, Hood and Petty got coffee and sat across from each other in plastic chairs at a small table by a window. The window was covered with sunscreen peeling at the edges. Two more marshals and two other men wearing suits and ear sets with speaker wires came in behind them and went straight to the coffee dispensers.

“So you don’t know Fi

Hood shook his head. “He claims to have known a man I used to work with.”

She looked at him, and Hood wondered what Fi

“He claims to have known Wyatt Earp, too,” she said. “Claims to have had drinks with him in San Diego. Earp ran a saloon with a prostitute named Ida Bailey, says Mike. I checked it out and it’s true. At least according to Wikipedia, it’s true. Anyway, I talked to Gabe Reyes and he’s found out not much at all about Mike Fi